Th1rteen R3asons Why
by MarkTheTinyGiraffe
Summary: Suicide. Sam never thought that witch would stoop to that level. But hey, you can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret... is to press play. And Sam can't believe she's admitting it; but she will miss her. [AU, DXS] [Full summary inside]
1. Something Special

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**I know I shouldn't be starting another fic right now, mostly because I am still working on 2 other ones, but this idea was too good to pass.****Mainly because I hear so many negative views of Paulina, I am curious to see what kind of responses I might get by displaying her in a new light. (She isn't the only one that will be put into new lighting, though)**

_**Th1rteen R3asons Why**_** is a novel written by Jay Asher. Beautifully written, and just simply AMAZING. (Though, in the book, I don't think her reasons for committing suicide were valid.)**

**And here I bring you; the DP version of that suspenseful and addicting novel. **

**PP never happened.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor Jay Asher's work.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 1: Something special**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

To everyone's relief – including mine – the bell rung, signaling freedom for the next hours until dawn breaks again. Chairs scrapped, chatter arose; papers, textbooks were shoved into bags and the classroom was empty almost in record time. Mr. Lancer just stood, pen in hand, still astonished at exactly _how_, we adolescents manage to get out of class this fast.

Chucking at his baffled expression, I proceeded to pack my own things. Well, I would have, if a certain someone wasn't holding my backpack already loaded with my belongings.

"Ghost powers do come in handy sometimes," He said, his blue eyes sparkling with the mischievous glint I love. Resisting is just futile; and so I get to my tippy toes – darn those growth spurts – and kiss his cheek.

He blushes tomato red, and I feel my cheeks are also tilting pink, but I don't care. He stares into my eyes, and I look into his; mesmerized, by just the raw emotion that's prominent in them. My stomach suddenly gets butterflies.

It feels so good to not hide these emotions anymore.

He asked me out just a few weeks back.

"I don't think I will ever get used to this," I jump at Tuckers sudden appearance; and once comprehending the look of utter disgust on his face, I laugh.

Danny pulls me in for a hug, and I am still giggling in his chest as his strong arms wrap around me. He rests his chin on the top of my head, and out of the corner of my eye I see Tucker smile.

"Took you guys long enough," He says, fiddling with his PDA. He looks nervous.

As we exit the classroom, the three of us being the last to leave, I can't help smiling at just how lucky my sad, twisted life of ghost-busting can be.

That is, until Mr. Lancer speaks up.

"Miss Manson. May I please talk with you privately?"

I groan, and send Danny an apologetic glance. He nods in understanding, but hint of worry is still in his eyes. He leaves the room with Tucker – lingering for a few seconds on the doorway – and then he shuts the door with a soft click.

This better be quick Mr. Lancer.

"Samantha," He says. I wince at the harsh name and glare at his bald head with such force I wish it explodes.

"You can call me Sam." I say though gritted teeth.

Disregarding, or ignoring, my request he continues; "Tomorrow a special Author is coming to visit our school. There is going to be an assembly in which all students of Casper high will attend. All grades need to pick one student to get up on stage and share their thoughts on a novel, poem, or song."

I blink. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"You, Sam, are going to represent our grade,"

I whine. "What is the point of this?" I grumble. I really don't need to get up on stage and blabber on about a book.

People already think I am a freak, now I'll just be a complete nutcase.

But to my surprise, Mr. Lancer smiles. "Rules don't specify exactly what you have to talk about, Sam." He says, "Do something special."

Something special?

Bewildered, I nod and make my way out the classroom.

But as the door clicks behind me; I smile too.

Unique is my specialty.

* * *

**12 hours later**

"Miss?" She repeats. "How soon do you want it to get there?"

I rub my fingers over my temple, wanting the erratic pounding inside to die down.

"It doesn't matter," I say.

The clerk takes the package. The same shoe box that was on my porch less than twenty-four hours ago; rewrapped in a brown paper bag, exactly as I received it. But now, addressed with a new name.

The next name on Paulina's list.

Kwan.

"How much is it?" I ask. My headache is getting to the point I wish someone would just shoot me.

Maybe I can spare a visit to Paulina.

She places the box on a rubber pad, and then punches a sequence on her keypad. I set my cup of gas-station coffee on the counter and glance at the screen. I fish out some bills from my wallet and slap them on the counter.

When I take a sip from the coffee, it's lukewarm, and hard to swallow. But I have got to stay awake somehow.

Or maybe not. The best way to pass through the day today is to just be half-asleep at school. Maybe it's the only way to get through today.

"It should arrive at the address tomorrow," She says, "Or maybe after tomorrow," She drops the box in the cart behind her.

I should have waited till after school today. I should just give Kwan one last day of peace. Even though he doesn't deserve it.

Hence why I am here at five thirty in the morning.

When he gets home tomorrow, or the day after, he'll find a package on his doorstep. Or if it's his mom or dad he'll find it on his bed in the afternoon. And he'll be excited. I was excited. A package with no return address? What's this? Maybe a secret admirer?

"Do you want the receipt?" The clerk asks.

I shake my head.

A small printer spits one out anyway. I watch her tear the slip and crumple it in the wastebasket.

There is only one post office in Amity. I wonder if this same clerk helped all the others on the list, those that got the package before me. Did they keep their receipts as sick souvenirs? Pin them on chalk boards? Tuck them in their drawers?

I don't need it. If I wanted a reminder, I would have made copies of those tapes or kept the map. But I never want to hear those tapes again, even though her voice will never leave my head. And the houses, the streets, the people; Casper high will always be there to remind me.

I walk out the post office, slowly. Ever swallow tastes sour. Every step is an effort. I want to collapse into the side walk and just lay there. I don't want to face school today.

I don't want to face the people there.

I don't want to face that one seat in the class. That one seat.

Paulina's.

Empty.

* * *

**Hurray for DXS! Next chapter will take place one hour after school, and you guys can see what exactly makes Sam so exhausted, and why's she's awake at five thirty in the morning (She didn't sleep at all), and what the heck is going on.**

**Thanks for reading, please review!**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe.**


	2. Cassette 1 Side A

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**Thanks to all those who reviewed: **_**IlikeDP, SamXDanny, jim89, Invader Johnny, sammansonreplica, The elf from Alagesia, and JapaneseClute.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor Jay Asher's work.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 2: Cassette 1 Side A**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

**An hour after school. **

"Bye guys!" I waved, as both boys parted and went their separate ways, home. I stood and watched for a little while, as Danny playfully punched Tucker on the shoulder and Tuck laughed. They turned the corner and left.

I would have reached home earlier, but a ghost disturbance was all it took to make me an hour behind schedule. Oh, well. Doesn't matter.

I walked across to my front door. And I am sort of surprised, when on the front porch I see a box. A shoe-box sized package is carelessly tossed on the welcome mat. A hurried scribble on the top says that it's addressed to Samantha Manson. So I pick it up and hurry inside.

I slide my backpack on the table, dropping it along with the box, and got a pair of scissors. A few snips here and there; and the package is opened.

Inside the shoebox is a roll of bubble wrap. Unrolling it, I discover seven loose audiotapes. Each tape has a bright green number painted on the upper right hand corner, by the looks of it; painted with nail polish. Each side has its own number. One and two on the first tape… three and four on the next one…and so on. The last one has a thirteen on it… but nothing on the back.

Who would send me a box full of audiotapes? No one listens to audiotapes anymore. Do I even have some means to play them?

Grandma's old stereo! Sure it's old, but it can still play. At least, I hope so.

Taking my backpack and the shoebox upstairs, I unceremoniously into her bedroom. She's gone out with my parents on some vacation. She said she has a friend who lives there. I forgot where they went. Germany, probably?

Anyways, I dump my bag on her bed, and sit in front of the dresser; facing the stereo. I press 'Eject' on the player and a slot opens. I slide in the first tape.

* * *

**Play.**

* * *

I do a double take when I hear the Latin American accent.

_Hello, boys and girls. Paulina here. Live and in stereo. _

I don't believe it.

_No return arrangements. No encore. And this time, absolutely no requests. _

No, I just don't believe it. Paulina killed herself.

_I hope you're ready, because I am about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes… you one of the reasons why. _

What? No! I never did anything to you!

_I'm not saying which tape brings you into my story. But fear not, if you received this lovely little box, your name will pop up. I promise._

This is ridiculous!

_Now, why would a dead girl lie? Hey! That actually sounds like a joke. Why would a dead girl lie? Answer: Because she can't stand up. _

Is this some sick, twisted suicide note?

_Go ahead. Laugh. _

_Oh well. I thought it was funny. _

_The rules are pretty simple. Well, there are only two. One: You listen. Two: You pass it on. Hopefully, neither will be easy for you. _

"What are you playing?"

"Grandma!"

I scramble for the stereo, hitting several buttons at once.

* * *

**Play. Backwards. Forwards. Pause.**

* * *

My heart is pounding furiously. "You scared me," I say, shifting uncomfortably. "You came back early," I stated, trying to doge the question. But I know all attempts are just futile.

"Yes," She said, but one of her eyebrows is high up. "Turns out Amanda moved to Italy ages ago. I had no other reason to stay. I came back,"

"Oh," was all I could say.

She nods at the stereo. "What's playing?"

"I-Its nothing. A school project," I cringe inside. Stupid mouth!

I can usually get away with lying. I lie on a regular basis to my parents. But the thing about my grandma is that she knows me like the back f her hand.

Mostly because, that's my stupid excuse for everything.

Staying out late? (usually because of ghost stuff) School project. Leaving the house at random points during the day? (Also, mostly for ghost emergencies) School project. Going to the pharmacy and buying medics for no reason? (Well, I wouldn't have to if Danny would take more care during fights) School project. Almost my answer to every question they ask.

And now, the tapes of a girl. A girl, who, two weeks ago, swallowed a handful of pills.

School project.

And grandma doesn't like being lied to. Her mouth presses in a thin line. "Can I listen?" She asks. It's a simple yes or no answer. And then she'll just take the hint and leave. But honestly, I have the world's idiotic mouth.

"It's not mine," I say. "I'm helping a friend. It's for history. Boring stuff,"

She nods and walks over to me. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she can see right through the façade, but she doesn't comment. She unplugs the stereo from behind the dresser, hands it to me and says, "Well, that's nice of you."

She kisses my forehead.

Grandma trusts me. And I just broke that trust. I walk over to the bed, grab all my stuff, and go to my room. Guilt is all I feel right now. My fingers, my hands, my arms, my neck; everything feels hallow.

I promise to make it up to her.

Determination seeps into me, and I throw everything on my bed as I reach my own room. I slam my door shut. I plug in the stereo. I sit on my bed, with my backpack sprawled on my left, the shoebox on my right, and the stereo in front of me.

I sit cross-legged, and lean on the pillows behind me.

Right Paulina. Let's see what I did to you.

Nothing.

I don't get it. True, I hate her, but not so much I want her dead. Sure, I might have said I want her dead a few times, but that was because I was blinded in fury of what was happening and I didn't really pay attention to what I said.

But I still don't get it. I didn't do anything to her that might result into this.

…right?

I close my eyes. I wish I just never saw the damn shoebox or the seven tapes inside it. Hitting play the first time was easy. A piece of cake, I didn't know what would happen. I had no idea what I was about to hear. But this time, it is one of the most frightening things I have ever done.

I turn the volume down, and a shaking finger presses play.

* * *

**Play.**

* * *

… _One: you listen. Two: You pass it on. Hopefully, neither will be easy for you._

_When you're done listening to all thirteen sides – because there are thirteen sides to every story – rewind the tapes, put them back in the box, and pass them on to whoever follows your little, innocent tale. And you, lucky number thirteen; you can take these last recordings of my words straight to hell._

_Depending on your religion, maybe I'll see you there._

_In case you're tempted to break the rules, and I am positive you will be, know for a fact that __I did make a copy of these tapes. And those copies will be released publicly in every manner possible if this package doesn't make it through all of you._

_I can grantee you that this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. _

_Do not take me for granted… again._

There's no way she could think that.

_You are being watched._

* * *

**Pause.**

* * *

It's a weak threat and we know it, but I still shiver and look around my room. My stomach turns.

Okay, lets retrace our steps for a little bit. Just, stop. Hold up for a while. I hardly knew Paulina. I knew she was just an A-lister. I knew she was mean. She had everything she ever wanted. Then, why, did she do this?

Believe it or not, I am not a cruel person. And I know that self-harming is not the answer to your problem. It's just the coward's way out.

No, I shake my head. This doesn't add up. I hardly knew her. We never talked. Sure, for reasons we hated each other, but I am NOT in any way, responsible for her death. And not once did I ever take her for granted. Not once.

I glare at the black rectangular pieces in the box. The tapes shouldn't be here. Not with me. It has to be a mistake.

Or a terrible joke.

I reach out for the box and check the wrapping again. A return address has got to be somewhere. Maybe I'm just overlooking it? Paulina's suicide tapes are being passed around.

Someone must have just made a copy and sent them to me as a joke.

And, tomorrow at school, someone will laugh when they see me, and then they'll just smirk and walk away. And then I'll know. I am not the reason for her death.

I didn't do anything to her.

I'm not on her list.

And, then? What if I'm not on her list? What if Paulina is just out of my life, for good now, and I can live on with the fact that I am in no way responsible? What then?

I don't know. I should be happy. She was a mean witch and now she's dead and I should be happy.

But I'm not. I don't know. Maybe because I have what I wanted... Maybe because Danny is now my boyfriend... I don't know.

* * *

**Play.**

* * *

_Hey, I almost forgot, if you're on my list, you must have received a map. _

It's as if I'm slapped across the face.

I'm on the list.

I'm one of the reasons for her death.

A few weeks ago, before Paulina took the pills, someone slipped an envelope in my locker. I didn't know what it was, nut I didn't tell Danny nor Tucker. On it said; SAVE THIS – YOU'LL NEED IT in red ink. Inside, there was a folded up map of the city. There were about a dozen red stars marked on different areas in town.

I kept the map in my backpack, I wanted to ask if Danny and Tucker got one. I guess I never really got round to doing that, and must have forgot about it.

Until now.

_Throughout these tapes, I will be mentioning several spots in our beloved city I would like you to visit. I can't really force you to go there – but hey, I am dead – just in case you would like a little insight, head for the stars. Or just throw the maps away to remove the evidence and I'll never know._

As she speaks through the speakers, I shuffle through the textbooks and papers to find that map. I do, and I pull it out and let the rest of my belongings fall to the floor.

_Or maybe I will. I am still not sure how this dead thing works. Being in Amity and all. Who knows, what if I am standing behind you right now?_

The tape stops right there. I should take it out and put the other side in. But I don't. I sit there, on my bed. Staring. I look at the map in my hands. I look at the stereo.

I don't get it.

Where will I come on these tapes? Where will my story be? Paulina, what have I done to end your life?

Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. I need to think. I mean, why am I listening to this? Why will I listen to the rest of the tapes? Why am I putting myself through this? Why not just get the tape out the stereo and throw the entire box of them into the trash?

I swallow hard. Because it's Paulina's voice. A voice, that Latin accent, which I used to hate. I still do, I mean, what did I ever do to her? But it's a voice I thought I would hear till the end of my school days. Never would I have thought I would hear this.

And because I need to know. I need to know what I did. Because, if I recall, I didn't do anything.

Then why am I on this list?

The rules. Paulina made a copy of these tapes. Someone has them. And their waiting. Waiting, for them to pass on to each one of us – all of us on the list. But what if the tapes stop, if I don't pass them on, that's it. It's over. Nothing happens. I mean, I didn't do anything. I don't deserve to be on this list.

But what if there is something on these tapes that could hurt me? I mean, what if this isn't a trick? Then a second set of tapes will be released. That's what she said. Publicly. And then, everyone will hear what's on them.

Who's willing to test her bluff?

* * *

**What did I just get myself into?**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	3. The Walkman

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**Thanks to all those who reviewed: **_** SamXDanny, jim89, Invader Johnny, sammansonreplica, Jim89, Guest, **_**and**_** Oystardiom.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor Jay Asher's work.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 2: The Walkman**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

I grab my backpack and overturn it. All the contents spill over my mattress and some roll to the floor.

I don't really care right now.

I need to go, I need fresh air.

I eject the cassette. I stuff all the tapes inside the backpack. I slip my boots on. I jog downstairs, the backpack smacking against my back. The tapes inside having haunting secrets that I'm afraid to listen to.

"Grandma! I'm going outside!" I yell when I reach the door. I wait for the reply, my hand hovering above the doorknob.

"Okay!" She says, her voice slightly muffled by the closed doors.

And I'm out.

I start walking, I'm not really sure where I'm going, but it seems that my feet are on auto-mode and my sub-conscious knows where I'm headed. So I continue walking.

I go over the thoughts in my head;

Paulina is dead. She killed herself. The reasons for her death are in my backpack.

And I'm one of those reasons.

And still… nothing seems to make sense.

I shake my head, as if to clear the thoughts, my short hair nipping my face. I sigh and look around instead.

The grass is green. The sky is blue. The traffic is usual. The children running around, playing, are normal. Everything is normal. And I'm somehow a reason for her death. Paulina's death.

Totally normal.

Everything is just going on too fast. An hour ago, I would have been happy that Grandma came home and I would have spent time with her – like I usually would have. If it wasn't for those dreaded tapes. An hour ago, I would have had a normal (somewhat) life and nothing to worry for.

But no, and hour ago, I found tapes. Tapes that have secrets to why the most popular girl in our school killed herself. And I'm one of the reasons why.

I come to a familiar curb, and then I do a double-take. Tucker's house? Really, brain? _This_ is where you were leading me? Then my brain actually decides to be smart and reveal why, exactly, I'm here. Tucker has a Walkman.

When I reach Tucker, he's hunched up over his dad's Mustang. The hood is open, and he and his dad are both leaning over the engine. His dad is muttering stuff under his breath and Tucker looks amused.

Turns out, Tucker would tinker with just about anything, really. Not only is he our tech-wizz, but he has a passion for cars too. I am sort of scared what would happen when he gets his own car – but that's a problem to worry about another time.

"Did it break down?" I ask, when I reach them, "Or is this just for fun?"

His dad stands up and wipes his oily hands across his greasy t-shirt. "Are you kidding?" He says, he looks over at Tucker, "It's always fun,"

He winks when Tucker says, "Yeah, even more fun when it's something serious,"

I nod.

"Dad, you remember Sam," Tucker states, reaching over for a wrench.

"Sure," Hid dad says, "Of course. Good to see you again," He doesn't reach forward to shake my hand, and by the amount of oil smudged on his shirt, I am not offended.

But it's quite obvious he's faking it. He doesn't remember me. Considering his son only has two friends, how should be able to remember them. But, I guess, not.

"Oh, wait," His dad says, recognition fitting across his features. "I do remember you. You stayed for dinner once, right? You were big on the 'please' and 'thank-yous'. Never understood how you didn't eat meat,"

I smile.

"After you left, my mum was on us for a week to be more polite,"

What can I say? Parents just like me. Except my own, but that's a different case.

"Yeah that's her," Tucker nods; he grabs an old shirt to clean his hands. "So, what's up, Sam?"

What's up? Oh, well, since you asked, I got a bunch of tapes in the mail today by none other than Paulina; a girl who killed herself. And, apparently, I had something to do with it. I'm not sure what it is, so I was wondering if I could borrow your Walkman and find out.

"Not much," I say. His dad asks if I would mind helping them. The keys in the ignition, they want me to start up the car. I don't remember saying anything in return, but I remember slinging my backpack over to the passenger seat and sliding behind the wheel.

"Wait. Wait!" His dad yells. "Tucker, shine it over here," Tucker has a flashlight in his hands, and he's standing beside the car. Watching me. When our eyes meet he locks gazes with me. Years of ghost hunting, years of pain and suffer; and I won't ever show it in my eyes.

I don't know what he sees. I don't know if he sees pain, confusion, despair, or all the mixed jumbled emotions I have bottled up in me. I don't know what he sees, but it makes his forehead crinkle with worry lines as he frowns.

Does he know? Does he know about these tapes?

"Tuck," His dad repeats, "The light,"

Tucker breaks the stare and leans in with the flashlight. His gaze slips back and forth from me to the engine.

It's almost as if he _knows_.

He knows something is wrong. That much I think I involuntarily made clear. And considering, all three of us have been close since, like, forever; we can read each other like the back of our palms.

I wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

What if he's on the tapes? What if I need to send it to him, next? What if he is the one who sent them to me?

God, I'm freaking out. The gears in my head are going on overdrive. My hands are shaking. Ugh, get a grip Manson! What if he doesn't know? You need to calm down. Maybe you just look tensed and he's probably picking up from that.

So I look around, try to distract myself. And by some freak miracle of God, behind the passenger seat, on the floor; lies the walkman. It's just sitting there.

I don't even blink.

I grab for the Walkman. Just like that. Without even thinking. The side-pocket of my backpack is open, so I stuff it in there and zip it shut.

I nearly jump out of my skin when he speaks. "Okay, Sam," His dad calls. "Turn it,"

I turn the key and the engine starts. I watch his dad smile. Whatever they did, he's satisfied. So I turn the key and shut it. His dad hums happily as he walks over to the garage, toolbox in hand. Tucker shuts the hood of the car. I step out and sling my backpack on.

I just want to shrink and disappear and avoid all the questions Tucker's eyes were asking. "So, Sam," he says, "What did you come here for?"

It's as if the Walkman in my backpack got heavier. I can feel the weight pressing against my back. "Just walking by. Saw your house, thought I'd say hello," I say, because that is what happened.

His eyes stare at my face a little too long, so I look over at their car. "I'm heading to Danny's to see what's new," He says, and by that I know he means something ghost-related. "Want to come with?" He asks.

I shake my head. "Thanks," I say, "But I'm only walking a few blocks. Maybe rest in the park for a few,"

I hope he isn't on the list. I don't think he is. He really shouldn't be. But then again, I shouldn't be either.

God, what if Danny's there too?

A shiver runs down my spine. I feel sick.

"So, I guess, I'll see you tomorrow," I say. He doesn't reply, just watches me turn and leave.

This hasn't happened before. I never refused to go to Danny's. He knows something is up. I just hope he doesn't tip off Danny as well.

I don't know what I'll tell them.

I walk slowly away, at any moment I expect him to just turn around and yell, 'hey! Where's my Walkman?' But he doesn't.

It's a clean get away.

It's not technically _stealing_, because I'll give it back. The guilt comes rolling in as waves anyways. I look over my shoulder and see Tuck turning the corner – headed for Danny's.

I just hope Danny doesn't get worried. It looks like Tuck is worried.

I frown. He was nervous in class today, too.

He knows something.

I enter the park, and sit on the first bench I see. My backpack sits beside me.

I see children, running around laughing. I see people setting up picnics. I see parents, conversing with each other with grins on their faces. Frisbees fly through the air. The occasional puppy barks and wags its tail. The grass is green. The sky is blue. All is well, and carefree.

I sigh. I guess it's time, time to listen to other side of the cassette.

* * *

**Filler, I guess. Sorry if it's so short. Things really start to get interesting next chapter. **

**Walkman = A trade-name originally used for portable audio cassette players. **

**Reviews are appreciated! :)**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	4. Cassette 1 Side B

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**Thanks to all those who reviewed: **_** jim89, Invader Johnny, Oystardiom, FanFic101Girl, The elf from Alagesia **_**and**_** Mellany Jackson.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 3: Cassette 1 Side B**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

Paulina's voice fills my headphones.

_Alright. Let's start. _

_Victim número uno; Ready Papá?_

No. No. No. No. Wait!

_I don't know what I did, okay? _

Hold up! No!

_I don't think I did anything wrong. _

No. Stop!

_And I don't recall doing anything you hated me for._

* * *

**Pause**

* * *

What is she thinking? She can't kill herself and blame this on her dad! This… this is unacceptable! No. This, this is just, wrong. So, so, so, so, wrong. I refuse to accept this.

I sigh. I really don't want to listen to what she blames her dad for.

I hear children's laughter; and turning my head I see a little boy running with a ball. The kid throws the ball towards an older man, who fakes slipping and falls head-first on the floor – but not really, as he steadies himself just in time.

But the little child, the sweet, innocent deluded mind of the kid, thought that his superior actually fell. So he rushes towards him. The older man, once the kid is near enough, he grasps on his son's shirt and pulls him down, rolling with him on the grass.

The kid laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs until I'm pretty sure that his head might explode.

I look back in my hands, at Tucker's Walkman.

How, how could she? How can anyone be so spoilt? A father is someone who raises you, someone who loves you… someone you should love back.

Right?

I admit, my relationship with my parents is rough around the edges. But we both still love each other. Deep inside, we know we do.

But I honestly don't know what to make of this.

I don't want to play this set. I don't want to know. But, I have to.

I have to, because I need to know how I fit into all of this.

Call me selfish, but I just need to know.

* * *

**Play**

* * *

_Then, why? Why did you do it?_

_To the rest of you, I seem like a spoilt brat. And now, you must be thinking on how I am now, just blaming things on my father. _

_Wrong. _

… Well, that cleared up pretty quick.

_You weren't me. You didn't go through what I went through. You never knew what happens inside the Sanchez mansion. You probably never will. _

_You don't know my story. But now… you will._

Second thoughts run through my head: Do I really want to know?

_But, I don't know; maybe all rich kids go through this. They figure out some way or another to ignore the problem. I tried, I really, truly, did. _

I furrow my brows. Her voice has a tone of such sadness…

What could she have gone through?

_Okay, Papá, I know Mum is dead, but that gives you no excuse to do what you do! You think drinking will solve the problem? You think slurring around the mansion and yelling at me would help you get over it? _

Oh, God. No.

_It hurts me too, okay? I know! But what makes it worse is the fact that you blame it on me! I know your drunk right now, and you probably don't even care that the other member of your family is gone too – but you know what? I don't care! _

She's yelling; practically hysterical, and I can't help but think that this is the only way she vented out her true feelings.

_Get your ass drunk and go to some club and go screw someone else, because the two people who loved you; Me, Mama… Walked out of your life for good this time._

_I hope you're happy._

No. Paulina, you can't say that.

Not to your father.

_I am. I'm going to meet Mother. _

I close my eyes, and lean my head back.

Bile rises in my throat.

* * *

**Pause**

* * *

No, it's quite obvious that not all rich kids go through what she went through. I know, because I don't go through that.

She had family problems. Okay, I get that. But that still gives her no reason to do this. She still had no right to tell us. People who aren't supposed to know, people who weren't involved, people who had nothing to do with it!

But, I guess, she isn't the only one who goes through this kind of stuff. Many kids would harm themselves and hurt over untold, personal, family issues.

I don't know what to think anymore. I don't want to think anymore.

Just listen.

* * *

**Play**

* * *

_I knew you were sad. But what you did – And I know what you did Papá – was unacceptable. I'm going to save you the last amount of respect anyone has for you and not tell what you did._

_But you know, and I know, and I hope you're happy. _

_You caused me so much pain. You were supposed to comfort me after the funeral. You were supposed to be there for me. You were supposed to be my father. _

_But no, you were loaded so you just decided to get drunk and let your daughter find comfort elsewhere. Maybe in your money. It didn't work. _

_Money doesn't bring happiness. I learnt that the hard way. _

I'm glad you did.

_So, thanks Papá; for ruining my life. _

_People think money is everything, they think that, yeah, I have the cash so I'll be okay._

_Idiotas. Idiotas, everywhere. _

_Cash? Short term benefits, sure. _

Is this really Paulina talking?

_But that gaping hole that was in my heart after Mum died – couldn't be filled no matter how many dresses I buy. _

_And, papa, you did nothing but make that hole bigger and bigger. _

_Until I couldn't take it anymore. _

Yes. That much has been made clear.

Because you're not here anymore.

_I started going out late at night because that's when you usually took your chugs. I would go to the club where the A-listers hang out. They didn't before, until I went, and then it just became a ritual that all the popular come and hang out there – we would drink. Yeah, we got drunk. _

Oh no. I cringe. I really don't want to… but, slowly, I open my eyes and look to my right.

_Yes, the club parallel to the park._

It was right there; staring at me. The black building that had no windows, just a neon sign saying something about beer.

I remember Jocks and populars' in school talking about it. Sometimes they would relate stories on who got more wasted and who drunk what, and the occasional argument of who had the worst hangover.

So Paulina basically ruined her life. No, sort of. Her mother died and her father ruined his life because of said death, causing Paulina to ruin her life.

_And it was just sickening, every moment of it. Even the bits I don't remember – it's either; stay home, get yelled at by a drunk father, or go and get drunk yourself. _

Okay. Now I see. I sort of see why this was a huge problem. I see how we are involved. Well, not me, but other people.

Paulina couldn't stand her dad at home because of the unmentionable acts he did, so she was forced to go outside and find comfort elsewhere. So she went to club to wash all her problems away.

Only, that backfired, because as soon as she started to go there, other people would, too.

Why couldn't she deal with this some other way? Alcohol isn't the only answer!

_But you know what's really sad? Like, really depressing? The fact that I – Paulina, the most popular girl in school – had no one to talk to. _

Unfortunately, I don't find that surprising at all. She was too shallow to hold a friend close at heart. Or so I thought.

She couldn't tell anyone because she was over-ridden by guilt of what her father does.

_You heard correctly, I didn't tell anyone about my father's 'problem'. I couldn't, because – there was no one to tell. No one I trusted enough. No one who valued me enough to know._

_You all are the first to know. Be privileged. _

_I hope you're happy. I hope everyone listening is happy._

_Because I'm not. I never was. _

_I never really understood what true happiness was._

* * *

**Stop**

* * *

As the tape finishes, and the slight _whirr_ of the Walkman plays, something moist and damp trails down my cheek.

Bringing my right hand up to wipe it, I'm surprised to find it is actually a tear.

Have I been crying?

I couldn't even answer the question, because, right behind me, a voice said, "Sam? Are you okay?"

I turned to face Danny, and the look on my face must have told him I wasn't, because in two seconds flat I found myself in his embrace, crying on his shoulder.

* * *

**I think the ending to this chapter is a bit rushed. **

**Reviews are appreciated, I would love to know what you think of this!**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe.**


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